


Two of a Kind, Never Together.

by dearxalchemist



Category: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing in the Rain, Mentions of Cancer, Romance, Sharing a Shower, answered prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-23 18:50:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19156861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearxalchemist/pseuds/dearxalchemist
Summary: The detective is so lost in thought he doesn’t hear the door to the bathroom open. Nor does he see the shadow of the woman on the other side of the white curtain as she disrobes. He’s too busy thinking about the night in the harbor, the fighting, the lazy investigation work he did when Helena was around, kicking in doors and interrogating goons. She was a force of wildfire and he couldn’t put her out. Not that he ever wanted to stifle Helena’s fire. The curtain shifts and he hears the rings on the bar overhead, metal on metal squeak and he’s momentarily knocked off guard as her cool hand reaches for him, gripping onto his shoulder as she steps up into the tub, “Can I join you?”(a collection of answered prompts)





	1. "Can I Join You?"

**Anonymous asked: “Can I join you.” Vic/Helena?**

**#4 “Can I Join You”**

He takes the shower first. It’s not big or fancy, but it’s clean and filled with Helena’s soaps and scrubs. Her apartment is nice for a teacher’s salary, but he wonders how much of it is actually because of that or money she’s come into over the years while delivering her own taste of justice to the crime families within Gotham City limits. Vic takes his time, leaning into the spray of warm water, his red hair looking darker than ever as he tilts his head up and lets the rest of the blood and dirt fall away to chase one another down the drain.

The detective is so lost in thought he doesn’t hear the door to the bathroom open. Nor does he see the shadow of the woman on the other side of the white curtain as she disrobes. He’s too busy thinking about the night in the harbor, the fighting, the lazy investigation work he did when Helena was around, kicking in doors and interrogating goons. She was a force of wildfire and he couldn’t put her out. Not that he ever wanted to stifle Helena’s fire. 

The curtain shifts and he hears the rings on the bar overhead, metal on metal squeak and he’s momentarily knocked off guard as her cool hand reaches for him, gripping onto his shoulder as she steps up into the tub, “Can I join you?” 

She asks softly, yet still invites herself in. Her lovely face is bruised, olive complexion already tinged with purple, yellow blossoms under her jaw too, someone with brass knuckles took a chance with a sucker punch and got lucky. Only his luck ran out when the Question put him face down into the snow covered bank of the harbor, his nose broke, fingers crooked.

Vic swallows softly and moves a half-step back, there is very little room in her shower, but he doesn’t deny her. Slowly he moves his own hand out and curves it around her naked middle, pulling her into the warm spray next to him. Her dark hair is snarled and the curls are soon plastered to her back and shoulders with the weight of the water.

Helena closes her eyes, smiles softly under the water as she tilts her head up. For a moment she looks like an avenging angel, fallen and bruised, ready for her wings once more. Slowly he lets his fingers fan out over her side, calloused thumb stroking down over the curve of her ribs. Helena hums softly and leans into him, her head falling against his shoulder as her own arms tangle around him. Vic can’t help but watch the browns and reds swirl around the drain as she makes herself at home in the comfort of his body. Her head in the crook of his neck, lips against his collarbone and arms under his, hands splayed across his back. The tips of her nails dig slightly into his shoulder blades before tracing down the dip of his spine. They are both covered in scars. They both wear masks into the night and hide everything from the world around them, but in this moment there are no secrets. There are no masks in the spray of warm water and Helena sighs happily there, muscles relaxing.

In the wash of lavender bubbles to come, he combs through thick curls and she slicks back his ginger colored hair, playfully counting a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose as he leans in, lips dangerously close to her own when the pipes softly sing, water turning cold. The spell is broken and Helena squeals softly as he fights the hardware to turn off the water only to make it colder. Laughter breaks over the tiles and she ends up covering his hands with her own, turning off the old shower and standing with him with gooseflesh rising just to pull him in for a wet kiss.


	2. "You've Changed"

**asktheimperishabletrio asked: #76 for Vic and Helena? Thank you very much :D**

**#76 “You’ve Changed” (you’re so welcome lovely)**

 

The sole of her boot breaks the man’s nose, she knows it’s broken by the sound he makes as he crumples to the ground, clutching at his face with bloodied knuckles as she steps over him like he’s nothing more than a piece of trash on the floor. In her wake, Helena has rendered five grown men down as if they were no more than plastic toy soldiers. Her knuckles are bruised and there’s sweat sliding down the back of her neck but she’s managed to come out of the fight free of injury.

“Stay down,” She tells the man cradling his nose, her crossbow in hand just not aimed at him yet, it’s pointed down at the ground as she reaches for the security panel within the wall, punching a few keys. The little pad makes a soft chime, then a small light flickered on green as the safe clicked and the sound of air exhaled into the room like it was depressurizing.

Helena made quick work of the handle, pushing the safe door open and swiping out the papers, not bothering to read any of them now. She’d go over that later in her apartment in between grading papers and eating leftovers. The papers were hopefully enough to tie the Maroni family to a few liquid assets just before their big court debut just a few days out. She would find what she could and then anonymously drop them off with the public courts, exposing who she could into the light of justice.

With the rest of the papers secured in her pack, she stepped back from the wall and just as the man raised his gun, she reacted, jerking out of the way just to fire a bolt in his direction, letting it catch his sleeve and pinning him into the wall.

“I said stay down!” She snapped the words and scoffed as if he was a child in one of her detentions. 

She left just the way she entered, out the back door with her crossbow out, firing overhead to gain purchase. She pulled herself to the roof with ease and dusted off the edge of her shoulder, checking her cape for bullet holes before turning and nearly falling back across the air conditioning unit as the shadow came into view.

“You’ve changed,” the familiar voice washes over her and Helena can barely hear anything else over the sound of her own heart skipping beats wildly in the cage of her ribs.

“V-Vic?” She finds herself clearing her throat, standing a little taller now. Helena squares her shoulders, “What are you doing back?”

Smoke seems to curl around him, casting him in even more shadows despite being on the dark rooftop in the not-so-nice district of Gotham. He has both hands in the pockets of his trench coat, “Chasing a theory.”

“And how have I changed? I’m still here, you’re the one who left me remember?” Helena finds herself shaking her dark head. There’s venom in her words and they’re sharp and part of her wants to hammer them home, right into his heart. He broke hers and now she wants to scar his.

Vic doesn’t move. He stands perfectly still, stoic even as he tilts his blank face in her direction. Silence lingers between them and she finds herself closing the gap, eyes narrowed with magenta lips turned down into the start of a frown, “I was the one you left behind. You’re the one who changed!”

Helena moves her hands out now, gripping at his lapels so tight she wonders if her gloves will split right over her knuckles.

“Three years ago you would have killed those men, you would have done more than stolen paperwork, Helena. You would have burned everything the Maroni family is hiding and here you are, waiting for the justice system now….” He pauses and she doesn’t let go of his suit, but he does pull a hand out of his pocket and touches the cross looped around her bare throat. Helena swallows hard enough he can see it in the dark, but she doesn’t say anything as his finger slides down to the religious pendant, “You are not the same woman.”

“No, I’m not.” He hears her ground out the words, brows furrowing behind her violet colored mask, “I am not the same and neither are you.”

“Change is inevitable Helena.”

“No one asked you to leave.” Now she lets go of him and can’t resist giving him a little shove, “I sure as hell didn’t.”

Before she can leave his hand moves up, palm catching her cheek lightly, cradling her jaw as he attempts to stop her. Helena doesn’t pull away, nor does she move towards him. She stands still as a statue, eyes on him behind her domino mask as he takes the silence to step in, head dipping down to the cradle of her shoulder, “I still stand by what I’ve told you,” his voice is soft against her ear.

“If you did you wouldn’t have left. Running away for some cancer scare. You forgot who I was when you left.” Is all she says, turning her head over and pressing her lips to his blank mask, leaving a perfect stain of magenta lips on his cheek before she goes to leave him there.

“Helena, wait!”

He calls but she’s already running away from him, slipping from his grip with her cape sliding through his fingers as she takes a running start and leaps into the light.


	3. Kissing In The Rain

**Anonymous asked: #4 vic and helena**

**#4. Kissing in the rain and getting soaked before running inside laughing.**

Lightning cracks across the sky and there’s a brief moment of silence before thunder follows. The sound of it vibrates the buildings, Helena pays it no mind though as she slips over the slope of the church steeple. The Cathedral is dark aside from a few candles burning low in the sanctuary, giving glow to the stained glass that faces the dark roads.

“Helena,” his voice is gruff, steps heavier than her own as he crosses the curved tiling, kneeling on the other side of it with her. His hat blots out most of his face-less mask, all she can see is a shadow, hearing the concern in his voice, “We have to move soon.”

“Not yet,” She grits her teeth. There are a few cars below, but none of them are the sleek black cars of Gotham’s most influential families. She’s waiting for the Casamento bloodline to come kneel before Mary herself and meet the end with one of her bolts in the chest.

“A storm is rolling in.” Vic’s voice is very matter-of-fact, his jaw is tight as he says the words and Helena finally tears her gaze from the street to look at the shadow of him.

“Then let it come, the more to muffle the sounds.” She grits her teeth but he’s having none of her tough act tonight. He moves over the edge of the roof and grabs a hold of the back of her cape, dragging her away from the ledge. Helena curses him, swinging wildly back to hit him but he’s got an arm crossing over her middle drawing her further back onto the cathedral roof towards the bell tower. The first hiss of rain strikes the tiles but it’s a slow prelude as she’s kicking and growling, teeth sinking into his forearm before he jerks back away from her and lets go. Vic scowls beneath his mask, “Ouch!”

Helena turns to face him, all flushed in the face, dressed in violet with smeared magenta lips that are pulled back across her teeth, “I don’t have time for this!”

“It doesn’t have to be tonight! They’re not coming.”

“How do you know?” She half-shouts the question into the night as lightning crackles overhead once more, giving her a view of the shadows across his masked face. Helena’s brows knit together and he reaches up to smooth away the anger across her face.

“Because there’s been a change in shipping manifests. It’s why I came here tonight,” He is quiet with his words, drawing her in with his hand sliding into her dark curls, distracting her from revenge for a moment as his palm curls along the back of her neck. His hand simply rests there. It’s Helena that grips his lapels and pulls him in. It’s Helena that slashes her mouth over where his should be across the dark rooftop. The rain starts to splatter now, it comes in an onslaught of warm sheets, striking the tiles around them. Helena shoves him back under the awning of the bell tower. Vic falters, nearly stumbling back and his arm strikes the bell which hums loudly in the space causing Helena to break away, her laughter is lost in the thunder overhead.


	4. 100 Words - Touch Me

**Anonymous asked: “Please, just… touch me.” Vic and Helena. I love them so much, #100Words**

She’s wrapping his ribs when he catches her hand. His fingers tracing the faint scars there before he pulls her fingers to the edge of his mask in a silent plea.

“I’m not done,” Helena remarks with bite to her tone, she’s still angry. Still pulling his bindings a little too tight when tying them off. Everything has become so clinical that he can’t take it. Helena has never been this way before, she is all fire and emotions and now he’s lost that for a theory that hasn’t quite panned out, “Please,”

His voice is strained, “Just touch me.”


	5. 100 Words - Don't Stop

**Anonymous asked: “Don’t stop.” Vic and Helena.**

Helena sinks low into the tub, wet hair cling to the sides. The bubbles have vanished, leaving her in cloudy water as he finally lets himself in. Imprisoning Cassamento hadn’t gone the way she had wanted, revenge stolen away by a man dressed as a bat. Vic settles on the tile floor next to her, uncaring as his suit gets wet, elbows dipping into the water to pull her in closer. His hair is a wreck, jaw peppered in a shadow of a beard before he kisses her cool lips, listening as she whispers a single request: “Don’t stop, please.”


	6. Never Meant To Hurt You

**shayerahol asked: 43. "I never meant to hurt you" + Vic/Helena?**

She’s throwing things across the room. They hurl with deadly precision past him, disrupting the air around him just enough to ruffle his hair. If she wanted to hit him, she would have already. Vic knows for a fact she’s holding back. Something clatters to his left but he keeps his hands on the keyboard, shoulders hunched down with the fever of a digital chase. It isn’t until he hears the serene zip of her suitcase that he’s pulling himself away from the glowing screen. Helena’s cheeks are tinged in red and her dark hair is sticking to the track marks made by tears.

The air is stale in the apartment. He hasn’t left in days. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s ate, showered, or even paced. He does however, remember the last time he made her cry. Something twists in his chest and the great Conspiracy Theorist moves now. His bones are tight and joints hurt but, he pushes himself up regardless just as she sucking in a sharp breath and turning her head up with a predatory dare.

“Sit back down!” She snaps out the words and her knuckles go tight around the small suitcase in her hand, causing them to go pale and bloodless. Helena stares him down, but Vic refuses to yield. Instead he stands at his full height to her, brow raising as if he was judging a battlefield, wondering which step would be the safest to take.

“Helena,” Vic breathes out her name in an attempt to calm the storm brewing under her skin. Though he can tell he’s too late when she narrows her gaze and snatches her bag up, holding it in front of her like a shield. He doesn’t have to be a genius to know all her things are in there. All the little bits and pieces of herself she’s left around his home have been collected. She’s pulling back and for what, he doesn’t know what he’s done this time. Was it the tracker? Was it the throwing out of her favorite shampoo? He can’t find a reason for her eyes to be rimmed in red, the traces of the work day makeup now long gone. Vic opens his mouth to speak but she cuts him off with a firm finalization of their conversation.

“No. No, you don’t get to do this again.” She steps forward, each stride is more like a stomp against the hardwood floors. Helena’s shoulder shoves against his as she moves past him for the door. The force is enough to knock him back an inch or so. The Huntress shakes her head.

Genuine curiosity strikes him now, “Do what?”

“You get so deep into a case you forget the rest of us! You forget that others need you! That you’re on a team sometimes whether you like it or not,” The floodgates have opened and she stops to spin on the ball of her foot, facing him with an accusatory finger, “We needed you Vic and you left us hanging. Thank God that Barbara still has ties to the Bat! Or else we would have been left on that ferry boat, sinking away with the rest of that shipment! I thought something held you up, but it was this… “

Helena gestures to the laptop, to the bulletin board with strings and newspapers everywhere. His apartment is a mess of clippings and theories, they decorate everything like tinsel on a Christmas tree. A faint memory of helping her with an illegal shipment of pharmaceuticals bubbles up in his thoughts and then he feels the guilt of letting her down, of letting the others down with a distraction of NSA regulations.

“I-” He starts to apologize but she’s already walking away. She’s turned away from him and her steps are heading for the door, “I never meant to hurt you, Helena.”

“Yeah, well you did.” Helena’s voice breaks. She doesn’t stop walking, doesn’t stop to slam the door, but lets it close with a deafening click, leaving him alone once more.

**Author's Note:**

> come scream at me about them on tumblr @felicia-parker


End file.
